


for better or for worse

by Jebug26



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, You've been warned, and then crack this open, i was sitting in the library trying to work on my thesis and instead - i wrote this, like go get a costco card, stock up on your kleenex, this is a painfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jebug26/pseuds/Jebug26
Summary: "Anne and Gilbert reached for one another and held on, and with the moonlight as their witness, the pair started to sew - a map of their next step, a blueprint which entailed their future - laced with life and loss."
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 151





	1. joy

"Pride, observed Mary-”

Anne’s breath caught, her mind briefly drifting to her departed, yet never forgotten kindred spirit.

She would’ve loved a day like this one, where the sea was alive and thrashing against the shoreline below. The sun shone down, alighting her auburn tresses in flames.

Anne ran a finger delicately across the name, a small smile ghosting her lips.

“She’d be so proud of you.”

Placing a chaste kiss to the underside of her ear, Gilbert nuzzled further into her fire-tinted locks, continuing his ministrations down her neck.

Anne _shivered_.

“I hope so.” Anne pondered softly, almost in another world.

Momentarily halting his attention to her shoulder, Gilbert moved to capture her eye line.

“I know so.” He reached to grab her hand, softly closing her well-loved copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ , running his fingers over her knuckles.

Anne smiled, taking in the sight of their intertwined fingers. “I try to emulate her passion and love for life in everything I do.” She looked up then, meeting his comforting gaze.

His eyes, crinkling in the sunlight, held her own.

Before Anne met Gilbert Blythe, she would have passed off the notion that eyes were the “window to the soul”. Even for all her romantical daydreams as a young girl, Anne had never bought into the idea that communication through eyes could replace that of the one through the world of words.

However, one glimpse into her husband’s, and Anne sometimes couldn’t believe that she had been so naive.

Without speaking, Gilbert’s “ _you’re my sun, love_ ”, shined so clearly through his hazel gaze.

Her, “ _and you my moonligh_ t”, radiated between the connecting pairs of eyes.

This non-verbal language that they had mastered over the years, was one so intricate, so charged, and one filled with so much tenderness, that it quintessentially _theirs_ ; the only one in their families coming close to cracking the code being their niece, Delphine.

Anne snorted, rather un-lady like then, breaking the pair out of the trance they had fallen into.

Gilbert chuckled, too being drawn out of the bubble that he and Anne so often found themselves in.

“What’s so funny?”

Anne laughed again, wrap her hand around his neck, pulling him back closer so that they were now nose to nose. “I was thinking about your - “ _if only we weren't currently on a semi-crowded beach”_ \- comment; pondering what Miss. Lacroix would have had to say about your sense impropriety for being in a public space.”

It was Gilbert’s turn now to let out a hearty laugh, imagining Delphine’s disapproving gaze at the scene of her aunt and uncle, curled up together in the sand, making “kissy faces” at one another.

“She’s going to give Bash a run for his money in a couple of years” Gilbert chuckled before capturing Anne’s lips.

He would never tire of kissing her, but how could he? How was one supposed to get a taste of Aphrodite's fountain and never be expected to want more?

Gilbert, even after four years of marriage, didn’t know the answer and never expected to find out; for having the privilege of being the one to cherish and love her was never lost on him.

Anne pulled away then, just enough so that their eyelashes were still brushing against the others.

Breathing a little harder now, and right into his mouth - “you know our daughter is going to run your pockets empty too right?”.

Gilbert playfully rolled his eyes before moving to re-capture her lips, one hand caressing her cheekbone and the other, fondly stroking the protruding silhouette of the newest, soon-to-be member of the Shirley-Cuthbert-Blythe household.

Gilbert hummed into the kiss, letting his obvious dissent towards their child’s gender be known. With a smile blossoming on her lips, Gilbert broke away, turning his attention to the swell below.

“I think what you meant to say Mrs. Blythe, is that yes, our _son_ will have every bit of stubbornness and flair for adventure as that of his mother”.

“In your dreams Mr. Blythe”

“Oh I do, my love. I see you cradling our babe, singing him to sleep in your arms while I cover you both with one of Marilla’s many baby blankets”.

Anne had been planning a rebuttal, never turning down a chance to give him some lip, yet found herself speechless for one of the few times in her life.

Gilbert - still occupied with endorsing their child with kisses - felt Anne’s tears upon his hands before he heard them.

Looking up, the tears that shone in her eyes were ones of joy, not sadness. Smiling up at his wife, he moved to sit up and gathered her hands in his own once again.

“You Anne, you and our baby, are the sole occupants of my dreams. The sole occupants of my heart.”

With her eyes watering, she gently pulled his palms once again in the direction of her midsection.

Beneath two pairs of loving hands, he or she (Gilbert truly didn’t care as long as they were healthy) made their presence known.

In medical school, Gilbert admittedly hadn’t been able to attend as many deliveries as he had wanted to. With the outbreak of various flu’s across the country in the following years after starting at the University of Toronto, he had been more heavily focused on keeping his patients alive rather than welcoming his new ones into the world.

He was certainly filled with excitement at the prospect of welcoming his own child in just a few short weeks.

And in those seconds after feeling their little one swirling, content and safe within her, Anne allowed herself just one, selfish second, to join in the daydream.

She never thought she would get this lucky.

She never thought that she would be sitting on a beach, toes curled into the sand, with her baby safely twirling just below their hands.

She never thought that she would get the chance to be a mother, to love and to hold her child the way that her mother and Marilla had cared for and loved her.

She never thought, never let herself believe that least of all, she would be here with _him_.

Gilbert Blythe truly was a dream come true; a dream she never realized she had until blue met hazel so many moons ago.

Still engrossed with movements coming from within, Gilbert was oblivious to Anne’s eternal musings.

Anne then fondly intertwined their fingers, successfully pulling her husband’s gaze back up to her eyes.

Gilbert gazed up at her, wonder pouring out of every crevice of his being.

“You will be the most wonderful mother Anne. They will be the most loved child on the Island”.

And without words, the two clung to each other, holding their blessing between them.

The golden coloured waves crashed behind them, carrying the words that while heard, went unspoken.

“ _I love you, more than you will ever know_ ”.

“ _Forever and always Anne-girl_ ”.


	2. despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning** 
> 
> This chapter centres heavy on child loss, specifically that of stillborn loss. Please read at your own discretion.

“Anne”. 

“ _ Anne _ ”. 

“Anne...my sweet one.” 

Marilla’s calls and then whispers were drowned out like the static produced from the brand-new radio in their parlor where her-

Anne stares out the window, curled up towards the lake of shining waters which is just in view from her bedroom, one of the many reasons why they chose the property to build their family home upon. 

She remembers once telling Marilla, in the exact same position, that she was in the depths of despair.

_ Huh, wasn’t that a lifetime ago _ , she bitterly thinks. 

In this exact moment, there was nothing more she would rather do then go back to that time. 

To go back to where her only worry was the colour of her hair. 

To go back to where her school marks where the only thing that plagued her mind.

Where the torture’s of the orphanage were the only ones that plagued her dreams. 

This, Anne thinks, must be hell on earth -  _ no purgatory _ \- where she’s stuck in limbo. 

She ponders that perhaps if she was able to cry, then she could cross over and follow; but all the tears pooled up behind her deary and hollowed eyes have refused to fall from the moment Gilbert screamed-

“Anne”. 

She snaps back to reality then, a firm yet cautious hand pressing into the small of her back. 

The pattern on her back drifts from circles, into squiggles, and finally, he begins to spell out what he can’t say. 

“I. A.M. S.O.R”- 

“No”. It explodes from her throat, scratchy and violent. 

He pulls back then as if he had been burned. 

She thinks for a second that he left, gone back to switch with the next in line, probably Diana; it had been a while since her bosom friend had tried to coax her to get up, to eat, to do  _ something _ . 

But then, her blurry view of the lake turns murky, like storm clouds moved in within a matter of seconds. 

It takes her a few more to realize that it wasn’t clouds, but sorrowful hazel eyes peering at her. 

Time stops once again for Anne, and whilst she should feel angry in the moment, she’s so tired of feeling angry - or just feeling altogether. 

He doesn’t say anything, not a word, but instead slowly places his arms upon the bed - and lowers his head to rest against them. 

It could’ve been minutes, hours or years for all she knew. 

Gilbert stayed, steady and strong, even though the turmoil in his own heart echoed in rhythm with her own. 

Anne just stared at him, admiring the lushness of his curls; although they are much more frazzled and contorted then they usually are. In a moment of weakness, or strength, she reaches out to grab one. 

The raven locks that adorned Gilbert’s head had always been a favourite feature of her husband. 

The raven locks that he handed down to their- 

Running the locks through her fingers, Anne marvels as it wraps around her finger, like it didn’t want to let it go. 

The sobs start unexpectedly shortly after, her body losing the battle with her mind. 

The shattering of her heart and everything she had refused to feel for two days detonates and the wave of grief hits her all at once. 

_ My baby. _

_ My baby. _

_ Our baby. _

“ _ Our daughter! _ ”

Her scream bounces off the ceiling, desperately searching for a way out. 

Anne doesn’t realize she’s throwing pillows until she’s suddenly weightless. 

Gilbert appears out of nowhere, except he’s been here the whole time, waiting and praying for the moment Anne would come back. Holding her close, trying to console and prevent further injury, he lowers both of them back onto the bed; cradling her in his arms. 

They stay there for a while, Gilbert rocking and Anne mute. It’s like the sorrow and despair that had been clawing its way out, was silenced once again. If it wasn’t for her rapidly beating heart, Gilbert would’ve thought that-

“I-”. 

His neck snaps down then, his tired eyes glued to her stoic yet clammy face. 

It’s mumbled and far from her usual flourished and intelligent jargon, but the timid and afraid “ _ my  _ fault” that manages to slip out is clear as day. 

Gilbert breaks. 

“God no Anne-”. 

“It was too!” she sobbed. 

“Darling no, you couldn’t have known”. Gilbert tried to reason - and she couldn’t have. How was she to know her placenta had given out, that their baby hadn’t moved throughout her labour at all. 

That was the wrong thing to say, as Anne stiffens in his arms, and he knows what is coming; like a kettle before it starts to whistle, a train that releases a puff of coal before departure, Anne is about to blow, and does she ever. 

“I should’ve Gilbert! I should’ve known she was- she was dying!” Anne starts to thrash in his arms, and despite his best efforts, the fire within only grows. 

“I got too comfortable, I thought that I could finally have it all - and look what happened!” 

She stills suddenly, like a tanker that has run out of steam. 

“I lost my baby... _ our baby _ ...it’s my fault...mine-” 

She can’t finish. 

Her chest starts to shake and she’s reaching out for his neck, his face and his anything - to her ground herself again.

“I need- I need- I”. 

“I know love. I’m here. I know baby. I’m so sorry”.

He joins in momentarily, lets his owns shelf of grief collapse, too tired after two days of holding up everyone in the house. 

Together they sob. 

Together they cry. 

Together they mourn. 

. . . 

It must have been another hour or so, because when he looks down, Anne looks like she’s drifted off. Smiling sadly, yet thankful that her body has won over in its desire for rest, Gilbert starts to move her out of his arms, back onto the bed. 

“Her eyes were so blue”. 

Gilbert looks down again, meeting his wife’s eyes for the first time since he delivered their daughter. 

“They were blue...right Gil”? 

He has to choke back another building sob. 

Tentatively reaching out and daring to wipe away a new round of tears from her swollen and tired eyes, he offers her a small smile. “The most beautiful shade”. 

Her own blue orbs searched his hazel counterparts and that seems to satisfy her enough, as her eyes start to close; body giving into exhaustion at last. 

Placing her gently down onto the bed, Gilbert takes a moment to take her in. 

Just over three days ago, they were walking through their garden, picking tomatoes whilst distracting Anne from her increasing labour pains. 

They were scared, yet over-joyed. Nervous, yet excited. Anxious, yet calm. 

Gilbert snorts bitterly, what he wouldn’t do to go back to that afternoon. 

But at the same time, knowing what he knows now, he thinks that it would perhaps make it worse. 

He has had plenty of time over the three days to contemplate - no torture himself- with the details of his daughter's birth; and death. 

The medical part of him rationalizes, arguing that even if Doctor Ward could’ve made it in time, that there was nothing to be done. 

The medical part of him stresses that he did everything right. 

The medical side of Gilbert Bylthe rationalizes his grief, reminding himself that has ~~five~~ four patients to care for after the trauma of the last few days. 

However, it’s Gilbert’s sheer human side that wins out in the end. 

It’s his love and despair that makes him reach out for his wife, pulling her closer than they’ve been in days. 

The flood-gates upon for Gilbert, all the pain of losing their child coming forth all at once.

He cries for her, their beautiful Joyce.

He sobs for Anne, who had gained and lost everything in a matter of seconds. 

And finally, he howls for himself; the joy of delivering his daughter radiating throughout his body for only sheer, and unfiltered terror to wash it away once he realized her colour. 

He doesn’t know how long it had been, but it’s when he stops shaking that he realizes that whilst he grieved, that Anne had been right there with him, eyes wide and the most alert they had been in days. 

Gilbert tries to speak, only to be met her finger brushing his lips. 

And in that moment, they don’t need words. 

What was being conveyed through blue via hazel, and vice versa, was more than they could’ve ever choked out. 

Laying forehead’s touched together, as the sunrise broke through the morning dawn, Anne and Gilbert pulled out the needle and thread, beginning to map out the treacherous road of grief before them. 

Side by side is where they stood going forward. 

At Joyce’s funeral. 

At Diana’s daughter's christening the following April. 

At her tombstone later that year, hesitant, yet hopeful in announcing the impending arrival of her sibling in the coming months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. 
> 
> I'm sorry about that. Losing a child is an indescribable pain and for those that have, I can't even begin to express how sorry I am. <3


	3. hope

The colours that bounced off of the wind chimes, and filtered into through her kitchen window, never phased to amaze Anne. 

The yellows that brought the sunlight in, even on the gloomiest of days. 

The reds that exploded through the pane, casting the amber glow throughout their home. 

She was also partial to the greens and purples that would intertwine together, as the glass ornaments danced together during a particular windy day. 

But, nothing could compare to the beauty of the tones of blues that would find her, always in the ~~wrong~~ right moment. 

It was days like today, when the hole in her heart would ache even more, craving the piece that her Joy had taken when she left them over a year ago now; when the blue shimmers would leak through her home, reminding her that she was everything and in everything she did. 

It was this sentiment that had gotten Anne through many days over the last year, residing herself to the notion that if she couldn't hold her in her arms, then she would have joy illuminated throughout her home.

The journey on this road of losing a child was one that she - and Gilbert- were taking one day at a time. 

There were days that she would brush her fingers lightly along the mantle, imagining her raven headed girl running around as free as a bird, with Mathew right on her heels, as the two of them learned about each other in a world she wasn’t privy too yet. 

There were days were Anne would cry, no howl, for her baby; collapsing into Gilbert’s arms as they comforted each other, both desperately holding on as if they were the only ones keeping the other’s feet still on earth.

There were days when the red would mix with blue, casting a mauve tint over her eyes. Where anything she could get her hands on was fair game - she and Gilbert had lost several plates, cups, and even books this way. 

And then, there were days when all the colour was wiped away from her world altogether, as grey as the tombstone in which  _ Joyce “Joy” Anabelle Marie Blythe, June 29th, 1912 - June 29th, 1912,  _ was forever etched into stone. 

On these days, in particular, Anne would gather up a duvet from the bed, and take outside with her. 

It was closest, she had found, to feeling truly at peace. 

Lying against the earth, wrapped up thanks to Gilbert’s concerns, with her face connecting with the soil that was entrusted with keeping her baby safe. 

It was days like today, where the colour got too much, that Anne needed to just  _ be _ . 

Be with her. 

Be with  _ them _ . 

With one hand stroking the warmth of the stone, her other drew little patterns, absentmindedly, upon her belly, that was only just beginning to show. 

Losing a child, was one never-ending nightmare of a journey indeed. 

But navigating life after loss, was another she hadn’t been prepared for at all. 

In the coming months after they lost Joy, Gilbert and Anne had firmly decided that they wouldn’t try again; vowing to live out their days solely for her and only her. 

They kept to that promise, that is until a year after her passing came and went. 

It was Anne who initiated the conversation and thinking back to it now, her lips stretched out into a small smile, recalling that end of July evening, where both of them had returned to the beach for the first time in over a year. 

. . . 

They had been standing side by side, hand in hand, with their toes being tickled by the teasing waves. 

Every once and a while, they would take a step back as their balance got swept away, taking a breath and giving the other a small squeeze of a hand. 

Every once and a while, the other would try to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. 

_ We miss you, Joy _ . 

The ocean, the sea, had always been a safe place for both of them throughout their lives. For Anne, an anchor that kept her tethered to the world, Gilbert - an escape from reality and a blessing in disguise. 

It held broken promises, trusted secrets, and more grief and heartbreak that should be able to carry, but it continued on. 

It was here that Anne, after what felt like hours, found her voice. 

“I think it's time”. 

It was so soft, almost like a breathless whisper, that Gilbert had barely heard her against the soothing yet violent sounds of the sea. 

“Hmm?” He murmured in question. 

He was met with silence, a worried, excited and...guilty look on her face. 

“Anne?” He tried again. 

She took a deep, steadying breath, letting the waves and the electricity of Gilbert’s thumb caressing her knuckles to wash over her. 

It was another several minutes before Anne tried again, Gilbert patiently waiting by her side, letting her work out the words that had been swimming in both of their minds over the last few weeks come to.

“I think it is time”. Anne breathed out, this time with more clarity and conviction behind her confession. 

Gilbert caught her eyes, already staring at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

And for the first time in well over a year, there looked to be a glimmer of hope shining within Anne’s eyes, breaking through the layers of sorrow that had gathered since last holding their baby girl. 

The words that wouldn’t form in his throat, were expelled through eyes, in which soft tears started to fall. 

“Yeah?” He barely whispered. 

She offered him a soft smile, reaching up to wipe away the wetness that had gathered around his eyes. 

Gilbert caught her hand then, bringing her fingers away from his cheek, down further to his mouth, applying small, sweet kisses across her digits. 

Anne watched him as he marked her hands, moving from her wrist, her arm and finally up to her neck. 

These feather-light praises held none of the passion that they used to during their younger days, where they had never known such sorrow and despair. 

Instead, these kisses were reflective, hopeful and filled with grief all at the same time. 

By the time that Gilbert made his way back up to her lips, he placed a small peck upon the buds, before wrapping his arms around her, and burying his head into her neck. 

Together, they held the other up. 

Well, until they couldn’t anymore. 

Letting the waves wash over them, they held on, letting the ocean take their cries that turned in laughs, and laughter that turned into screams. 

The grief and love and fear and hope of the last year was  _ finally _ coming to the surface; no longer able to be boxed away for another day. 

And together, they stood strong.

. . . 

“Love?”. 

Anne’s eyes snapped open. 

In her disoriented position, she tried to focus on the sound, but her mind was so fuzzy with sleep that she couldn’t place it. 

Trying again, Anne honed her ears, but all she could pick up was rustling. 

_ Where was she? _

Lying, with her eyes still closed, she tried to fill in the puzzle. 

Her finger grasped at the grass -  _ outside _ . 

Her nose picked up the scent of the earth - _ soil _ . 

Her back brushed against something soft and familiar -  _ bed _ . 

But wait, that couldn’t be right. 

“Anne?”. 

Cracking open an eye, being a bit more aware, Anne recognized the voice. 

Gilbert sat in front of her, softly brushing the loosened hair out of her eyes. 

It clicked then, where she was and why he looked so concerned. 

The sun that she had initially joined in accompanying to visit her daughter, was no more, the moon dancing over her tombstone, taking the “night shift” so to speak. 

“I must’ve have fallen asleep” She confesses softly. 

“I think so too love”. He whispered gently. 

She took him in here, the way that his raven hair was alighted in the moonlight, how his eyes shone ever brighter at this time of night. 

“You’re so beautiful Gil”. 

It catches him by surprise. 

“Anne?” He asks, not sure if she is truly awake yet or not. 

“The light, it makes you look like an angel...like  _ our _ angel”.

He doesn’t reply, knowing that she has more to say. Instead, he continues to play with her locks, letting the words come when they're ready. 

“It was too much today”. 

Anne’s eye break away from his own then, settling on the stone just out of reach. 

“The room was so blue, so- so alive- that I-”. It comes out no more than a collection of whispers, as she starts to drift back into her other world. 

Gilbert, as always, brings her back. 

He grasps her hand then, pulling back her gaze to his own. 

“I know love.” He murmurs quietly. 

“It sometimes gets too loud, like everything is shouting at you, and no matter how much you try, you can’t make it stop. No matter how much you want to - no, need to, you can’t bring ~~her~~ them back.”

Gilbert’s hold starts to slip, his own grief starting to paint over his eyes. 

It’s Anne this time that keeps them afloat. 

As for all the times throughout the last year that Gilbert has been her rock, Anne is his lighthouse in the middle of the sea, bringing him home. 

“It wasn’t your fault Gil”. 

He doesn’t look like he agrees. 

“Gilbert”. 

He refuses to meet her eyes. 

“Baby, please”. 

And then he does, because how could he ever refuse her. 

Sitting up, bring the duvet with her, Anne squeezes his palms, bringing him back down to earth. 

“It never was, and never will be your fault my love. You did everything you could and more for our Joy.” Anne pauses, her own voice becoming thick. 

Pressing on and holding his almost child-like eyes, “She left knowing that she was so- so loved by you. So cherished by us and is so well taken care of by our families, right?”. 

The water in Anne’s eyes returns, no longer able to hold it together. 

“Our girl was so loved Gilbert, is  _ still _ loved and forever with us.” 

Gilbert catches the back of Anne’s neck then, unable to hold back his emotions any more. 

Releasing everything that had been building up in his heart, Gilbert kisses her openly, and honestly. 

All the: 

_ I love you’s.  _

_ I’m sorry’s.  _

_ I need you’s.  _

Are all wrapped into one, and for the first time in a while, Anne starts to feel at peace. 

Breaking away, she pulls his hands away from his face and down to her stomach. 

“Our two children are the luckiest ones out there Gil”. 

Gilbert let out a watery laugh, his heart expanding with joy at the prospect of another baby, yet fixated on another moment in time, almost in another life, where his hands had lied over Joy. 

“I love you Anne”, he breathed earnestly, holding her eyes. 

_ All three of you. _

Anne and Gilbert reached for reach other and held on, and with the moonlight as their witness, the pair started to sew; a map of their next step, a blueprint which entailed their future; laced with life and loss.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I finished this! 
> 
> It started out as a "what if" and an "oooo, that would probably tear a heart or two out", and now we're here. 
> 
> Thanks those that have stuck around to read these, I know I caused a lot of pain, but I really think that this an important story to tell and hope I did it justice! 
> 
> If you liked it, let me know! I'm thinking of maybe continuing on with it but I'm not sure! 
> 
> To season 4! (and 5, and 6...) 
> 
> #renewanwithane


End file.
